There's an Ache

There’s an ache that blooms
in the silence of the morning,
when your boys are chasing sunrises
in countries with foreign tongues,
and you can't hold their faces
or trace their tired eyes
with your knowing fingers.
You celebrate them—
but you also grieve.

There’s an ache that lives
in the quiet phone calls,
where your grown child whispers,
"It's not what I thought it would be."
The fairytales crumbled,
and now they sit in the rubble
of real love,
real compromise,
real heartbreak.
And you can’t fix it.

There’s an ache
when you watch your son
run from healing like it's fire,
dousing himself in distractions,
holding up pride
like a cracked shield.
And you know—
you know—
he could be free
if only he’d turn inward
instead of away.

There’s an ache that stings
when you see the light in your daughter
start to flicker—
the result of too many takers,
too many men with hollow promises
and a world that never really saw her.
She gave and gave and gave—
and now she’s learning
the painful art of withholding.

There’s an ache
in holding wisdom
you cannot give away.
You’ve walked these roads,
tasted the bitter fruit,
but they must plant their own gardens,
even if they don't bloom the first spring.
And you—
you must wait.

There’s an ache in becoming—
not just for them,
but for you.
Who are you now,
when your arms are no longer full
of small, warm bodies
who needed you for everything?
There’s space, yes—
but it echoes.

There’s an ache that settles
deep in the bones
when you realise the love you gave
was a mirror for someone else's lack.
You stayed too long,
softened too much,
moulded yourself to fit a space
you were never meant to live in.
And when it ended—
you weren’t just heartbroken,
you were scattered.
Left with a laundry list of healing,
and the slow, sacred work
of finding your way back to you.

And still—
you love.
Through the miles, the pain,
the silence, the strain.
You love in a language
that they may not always hear,
but one day,
they will understand.
And maybe then,
they’ll come home—
not just in body,
but in spirit.

KAB

31/05/2025